


Fly Me to the Moon and Back

by Fairleigh



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Sequel Trilogy, Star Wars: Rebels
Genre: Consentacles, First Time, Friends With Benefits, M/M, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Xeno
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-01
Updated: 2018-12-01
Packaged: 2019-08-23 06:07:08
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,423
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16613369
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Fairleigh/pseuds/Fairleigh
Summary: “Great run, eh, Solo?” Jacen opined as he pulled off his helmet and tossed it casually back into the cockpit of his X-wing. His hair caught the late afternoon sunlight, glistening like spun emeralds.“Yeah, sure,” Ben muttered. It had only been to the moon and back. No big deal.





	Fly Me to the Moon and Back

**Author's Note:**

  * For [BanSW](https://archiveofourown.org/users/BanSW/gifts).



The Force was stronger in him than it was in Jacen Syndulla. About that, Ben Solo was reasonably certain.

That certainty was cold comfort, however, whenever he and Jacen took to the skies in their X-wings, combining raw talent with Force-sensitivity for what ought to have been mechanically impossible balletic aerial maneuvers. Ben, despite being younger, was Jacen’s equal in their test runs, it was true, but he’d had to work and work and _work_ for it. Jacen, in contrast, was a natural who was always perfect the first time, no practice necessary. His flying was pure exuberance, the epitome of grace and beauty.

In a sense, it shouldn’t have been surprising that he would be able to perform this way. His mother had been one of the Rebellion’s best starfighter pilots, and his father had been a Jedi of the Old Republic who survived Order 66.

Okay, okay, right. Caleb Dume — Kanan Jarrus — had been no Anakin Skywalker, a mere trainee in comparison to Ben’s grandfather’s full knighthood. Ben knew that. _He. Knew. That!_ So why did Jacen always make Ben feel like such a poor, pathetic plodder?

“Great run, eh, Solo?” Jacen opined as he pulled off his helmet and tossed it casually back into the cockpit of his X-wing. His hair caught the late afternoon sunlight, glistening like spun emeralds.

“Yeah, sure,” Ben muttered. It had only been to the moon and back. No big deal.

Yet Jacen was positively alight with the sheen of — to Ben’s mind, unearned — success, like they’d broken some new sub-hyperspeed record, or some other remarkable feat. Was it because he was half-Twi’lek on his mother’s side? The females of the species were renowned for their attractiveness and charisma; maybe Jacen had inherited some of that? He’d certainly inherited some of his mother’s exotic coloration. Apart from that improbably verdant head of hair, though, he appeared fully human.

“Whew! I’m thirsty. C’mon, let’s go. First round’s on me,” Jacen announced. He started heading in the direction of the spaceport cantina. He knew without bothering to look behind him that Ben would follow without question.

Stang, it was so kriffing unfair! Even from behind, Jacen radiated such elegance, such prowess! Why did he get to be the one who hit the genetic lottery jackpot while Ben was stuck with features and proportions which could only charitably be called “interesting” …?! Half of the time, Ben wanted to be Jacen.

The other half of the time, Ben just wanted him —

— and he knew Jacen could feel it.

Jacen’s apparent thirst was quenched after only two quick rounds (the first paid for by Jacen, the second paid for by Ben) of the local swill. After that, he evidently had other bodily … needs … uppermost in his mind. To that end, he negotiated a private room for the two of them for the night. As the sun began to sink below the horizon, Jacen headed up the narrow flight of stars behind the bar, and again, he knew without bothering to look behind him that Ben would follow.

“We were expected back at the Temple hours ago,” Ben pointed out. A weak excuse. Uncle Luke was too much the unflappable Jedi Master to worry about his two most talented students, but they _were_ expected.

“We aren’t needed. We would feel it if we were,” Jacen replied, and simple as that, they were decided.

Why was this happening today of all days? Ben was asking himself that if he could not, or would not, ask Jacen. But Ben didn’t really know, and to be honest, Ben didn’t care. All he knew or cared about was that Jacen had closed the door, pushed him down onto the bed, and begun kissing him. And not just kissing him. The kisses were but a prelude of what was to come.

The inevitable awkwardness of the removal of their flight suits and their undergarments, and then they were both revealed to each other in all their naked glory. Jacen’s blue eyes seemed to burn like the heart of a star as he looked Ben up and down. Ben couldn’t imagine what he saw to make him smolder like that: A splotchy chest sprinkled with moles? A half-hard cock twitching spasmodically as it filled?

Whereas Ben’s mouth went abruptly dry at the sight of Jacen. He supposed he had assumed that because Jacen looked fully human with his clothes on that he’d look fully human with his clothes off, too.

But no. If that was what he’d assumed, he’d assumed _wrong_.

At first, Ben thought that there was nothing between Jacen’s legs, just a hairless, blank space, sexless. But then the twin claspers unfurled, revealing the pulsing, forward-facing aperture between them, and Ben no longer had any time to consider how they were going to fit together, or what manner of sex acts were possible for them, because Jacen was on top of Ben, and kissing him with renewed vigor, and grinding their hips together.

The aperture slid wetly along the length of Ben’s cock, and Ben sighed, the messy friction of it more than enough to drive him mad all on its own. Besides, this was Jacen. _Jacen_. But he hadn’t counted on the combined action of those claspers, prehensile, _tentacle-like_ , and thicker than two thumbs, which writhed and probed the flesh of his inner thighs, seemingly with minds of their own, until they were curling around his balls and worming their way between the bed sheets and Ben’s buttocks and teasing his hole.

Ben whimpered as the tips of those claspers stretched him, wormed their way inside, achingly deep, and found anchor, pulling Ben and Jacen tightly together. They were claspers, indeed! Ben’s hips bucked at the sensation of penetration, the flared edge of his cockhead catching on Jacen’s folds and opening him. A burst of such intense pleasure rocketed through both of them at that touch that it was practically a disturbance in the Force.

“Um, wait, are you sure …?” Ben began, hesitating. Male Twi’leks weren’t normally receptive partners … were they …?

“C’mon, Solo, don’t wimp out now,” Jacen whispered, his expression a fierce mixture of desire and challenge. His claspers throbbed against Ben’s prostate in time with his words, as if to underscore the point.

Ben growled, ignoring that lingering, niggling doubt in his mind about how a male human and a male half-Twi’lek were supposed to fit together, and flipped Jacen over onto his back, with Ben on top of him, using his superior size and weight and the momentum of the movement to drive himself into Jacen, one long stroke, straight to the hilt.

“Yeess,” Jacen hissed. His claspers, which had not been dislodged by the motion, stroked Ben with approval.

Then they were rocking into each other, rough and furious, fingers digging into flesh, leaving bruises, lips locked together, perspiring from their exertions. Their pace accelerated, fast and utterly frantic, and everything they were, their breaths, their pulses, the very beats of their hearts, in perfect synchronicity. Who would’ve thought it could be like this between them? The Force was with them, as it was with them in everything.

Their orgasms slammed into them like an unscheduled return to realspace after a long hyperspeed jump, jolting and abrupt and absolutely _final_. Ben roared as his semen pumped out of him, one, two, three, _six_ times, and then more, still _more_ , the contractions powering each spurt so violent that the pleasure was nearly pain. Dimly, he felt Jacen’s own release as a hot wash of fluid between them.

Jacen’s mouth was open in a silent cry, his sky-blue eyes wide and unseeing, gorgeous even in ecstasy. He bucked and writhed beneath Ben, his claspers twisting, threatening to throw Ben off. Stars, he was beautiful! Ben held on gamely and burrowed his face into the crook of Jacen’s neck, his nostrils filling with Jacen’s natural, spicy fragrance as his cock expelled those last few weak pulses and they both trembled from the aftershocks.

“Almost as good as flying, eh, Solo?” Jacen said, voice shaking a little, trying but not quite succeeding in sounding cavalier.

“Yeah, sure,” Ben muttered. His throat was sore from all the passionate yelling he didn’t remember having done, but his also-sore cock twitched with definite renewed interest. At least, he reflected, he was proving himself most excellent in bed — a real virtuoso.

He thought he might be gearing up for a second test run. In this, Jacen was going to have to work hard to keep pace with him.


End file.
